


Worldly Wants

by Lightpoint



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls I, Dark Souls III
Genre: Action/Adventure, Amnesia, Battle Couple, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Firelink Shrine Schenanigans, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Mistaken Identity, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Patches being Patches, Patches is Smug, Ringed City Schenanigans, Slow Burn, The Ashen One is Pissed, The Ringed City, does this count as necrophillia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-07 18:17:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19474684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightpoint/pseuds/Lightpoint
Summary: So it turns out that the asshole you keep bumping into is good at more than stealing your gear and trying to kill you.Or: The Ashen One finds an unlikely ally in a desolate, dead world.





	Worldly Wants

**Author's Note:**

> So Patches is my lowkey DS3 husbando. I have both male and female characters, and his interactions with said characters have a rather different, eh, flavor with the ladies...Hence this fic. Also the lack of Patches fic had to be remedied. 
> 
> Also, per 2nd-person convention, Y/N = Your Name.

You tilt your head to the side and glare at Siegward.

" _Reasonably sane?"_ you echo. "Of course I'm -- "

"I am a KNIGHT of CATARINA! And I've managed to track down this Cathedral's store of treasure!"

You frown. You hadn't taken Siegward for a treasure-hunter when you'd encountered him in the Undead Settlement. He'd seemed more of a Questing Knight, walking the earth on some endless search, or something. And he's an Unkindled, like you. What use do either of you have for treasure? It's not like there's anywhere to spend it, unless it's a big chunk of souls.

Furthermore, he knows that _you_ know that he's a Knight of Catarina. Not that you hadn't known the moment you saw him; Catarina armor is famous throughout Lothric. And highly sought after, even though the full set greatly resembles a large onion with short, stubby legs. So, why...

Your face falls. You remove your helm, wincing as black blood sluices off of the cold metal, coating your gauntlets. You take a step forward and extend your hand, palm up.

" Siegward?" You keep your voice as gentle as you can. You've seen men go Hollow before; memory is the first to go. He'll remember the big things for the longest; who he is, where he came from. _A Knight of Catarina..._ But brief, random encounters with strange Unkindled? No...those would disappear, even if you _had_ saved each others' lives.

And when the memory goes...Everything looks like danger, under the right circumstances. You step closer, trying to be as nonthreatening as possible. And for a moment, you think he _does_ recognize you. He freezes, his armor clanking as he turns to look at you. Hope flickers as he looks you up and down, scanning you from the top of your head to the bottoms of your boots, and then to your extended hand. You wince. _Of course he doesn't want to take it_...The dark leather is covered in blood, bone dust, and the sludge coating the floor in the giants' pen. You're trying not to think about what _that_ might be.

"Siegward, it's me. Y/N. We met in the bell tower in the Undead Settlement?"

No response.

You swallow, and set your helm down. You think you can reach him...But you keep your sword hand ready. You brush your hair out of your face, wincing as you leave a slimy trail across your cheek.

"Do you remember me?"

Your shoulders slump.

"Treasure...hmm..." He shifts the Zweihander across his shoulder awkwardly. "Always so close, yet so far...I'm in quite a pickle indeed..."

"A pickle," you say. "Well...I can maybe help with that." You frown at the narrow walkway across the gap. It's the top of the huge metal wall separating the giant's pen from the rest of the Cathedral, and maybe three feet across. You hesitate. You hate heights. But...You take a step forward. If he's found something that he, an Unkindled...and maybe a near Hollow...can use, then you have to help him get it. The path to the treasure looks a little shaky for someone in full Catarina armor. You step towards the drop.

He straightens, watching you intently through the slit in his helm. He shakes his head.

"Just hold your horses a moment. I know, I know, treasure is so sorely tempting...Hmm... Hmm..."

You smile, despite yourself. There's something of him left, you know it. He'd tried to stop you from rushing after the demon in the Undead Settlement, too. Well...it hadn't worked then, either.

"Don't worry. I'll be fine...Just hold onto that for me, all right?" You smile, and point at your helm. It's a good one, real Lothric steel, taken from the body of a castle Knight. You pull off your gauntlets next, and leave them beside the helm. They're too slippery for a walk like this. If you trip, you need to be able to catch yourself.

Siegward nods silently, and moves closer to your gear. Your smile widens. He looks almost protective, his posture almost furtive, even inside his thick, bulbous armor. You arrange your claymore, quiver, and ultility pack carefully so that they won't overbalance you. Then you take a deep breath and step out onto the walkway, your boots clanging on the metal.

You make it to the middle of the path without dying, to your relief, and stop for a breather. Then the metal beneath your feet shakes, and a harsh _clang_ rings your ears. Your heart jumps into your throat as the wall starts to lower.

Your eyes widen as laughter rings out behind you. You whirl, and stare at Siegward, fear and regret hitting your heart.

And then he takes off his helmet.

You stare, your gasp catching in your throat. _It's not him. He's not Hollow, he's..._

“Shame on you, you insatiable wench!” he crows, laughing at your shocked expression. “Thought you’d outwit an onion?”

Your shock turns to anger as he leans over the ledge and waves, a smile splitting his face in two, turning his already sharp features into something truly cruel. You figure out why he’s smiling when a deafening roar shakes the Cathedral to it’s foundations. You whirl, and barely keep your balance when the massive, rusted helm of the _other_ giant, chained in filth near the Cathedral alter, the one you’d snuck by because you’re low on estus…is suddenly inches from your nose.

“You _bastard!”_ you yell, your eyes blazing with fury. He just laughs, and starts filling a huge bag with your abandoned gear.

“Now say hello to the nice giant! He _adores_ visitors!” And then he passes out of view, and the gate is low enough for the giant to reach for you with a roar.

You answer with a cry of your own, and whip your claymore from its sheath. You steady yourself, gauge the distance between you and the floor, and jump, sword out. You land squarely on the giant’s foot, skewering it to the bone. You feel a flicker of pity at the pained roar; the mad priests of the Cathedral of the Deep had kept him chained and helpless in raw sewage for so long that his chains, each larger than your head, had rusted through, and the giant’s thick skin was rotting off his bones, seeping poison and disease.

You tell yourself that it’s mercy when you slash the tendon in his mangled ankle, and drop him onto his back, barely flinching at his howl of pain. You claw your way up onto his chest, and finish him with a powerful strike to his helmet, your blade easily cracking the rusted metal and piercing right into his brain.

You slide off, shaking with adrenaline as his wasted flesh collapses in on itself. A faint rumble sounds around you as the body all but vanishes. You tell yourself that it was relief.

 _Find peace, ancient one,_ you think.

Then you turn and glare up at the ledge where the imposter had stood. He is, of course, gone. But he can’t have gone far, not this deep in the cathedral. Not when the specters of countless warriors roam the halls, some leaving behind bodies to be looted, others mere echoes of spilled blood. There’s treasure, all right. And you have a feeling that he’ll be looking for more.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know...I have several WIPs to finish...but I sidestepped into the Soulsbourne fandom once I started playing the games, and loving every minute. I'm STILL in Star Wars, though...My muse has just only recently come back from a secluded mountaintop vacation. Pretty sure they're still jetlagged. But The Plan is to _at least_ finish _Counting Days._ Eventually... 
> 
> THIS fic will just have a few chapters, but like I said...the lack of Patches fic _had to be fixed._


End file.
